


One Mission

by mrs_squirrel_chester



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship, F/M, Gen, Modern Bucky Barnes, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Reader-Insert, Steve Rogers Angst, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 10:26:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8158856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_squirrel_chester/pseuds/mrs_squirrel_chester
Summary: It’s your first solo mission and things don’t go according to plan.





	

You thought you could handle a mission on your own. You were wrong. So very wrong. **  
**

Gritting your teeth, your shoulder slammed into the wall. 'Son of a bitch,' you shouted.

You pulled your hand away from your belly and almost passed out. Thick red blood covered every inch of your skin, dripped off your nails and down your forearm. You were officially fucked.

'FRIDAY, send out an SOS with my coordinates.'

'Of course, Agent Y/N.'

You tried pushing away from the wall, but your body wasn't cooperating. You slid down the wall and landed with a drawn-out moan.

'Agent Y/N,' FRIDAY said. 'The nearest Avenger is Agent Rogers.'

 _SHIT!_ Steve was going to lose his mind when he saw you. But you were losing too much blood to care who it was that rescued you.

'How long?' Your tongue felt too thick in your mouth.

'Five hours out.' For an AI, she sounded rather compassionate.

It was harder to breathe now, the searing pain in your belly was beginning to fade, and it felt like you were moving in slow motion. _FUCK!_ You tried to tell FRIDAY that you didn't have five hours. That you were going to die. But all that came out was a garbled mess.

FRIDAY's smooth voice drifted down a tunnel as she called your name.

Everything went black after that.

* * *

Steve was pretty sure he broke more than a dozen laws, but he didn’t fucking care. She was hurt, worse than hurt. He had to save her. The entire trip, his heart was stuck in his throat, pounding with fear, making him feel like he was going to vomit.

He called out for her, not caring that the enemy would come looking; that’s if any were still alive. _Come on, Steve. Of course they didn’t survive. This is Y/N!_ He made quick work of clearing one floor, then the next, and the next. By the time he reached the sixth floor, the fear burning in his gut was painful.

‘Where the fuck is she, FRIDAY?’ Steve snarled.

‘Straight ahead.’

‘I don’t see her!’ It was suddenly too hot, too hard to breathe, the shield was too heavy. He dropped it to the ground and ripped off his leather jacket.

‘Agent Rogers,’ FRIDAY yelled. ‘Y/N is straight ahead, at the end of the hall.’

Steve squinted in the dark and that’s when he saw her. She was a crumpled mess on the floor. He ran as fast as he could and it didn’t feel like it was fast enough. Sliding in the pool of tacky blood, Steve dropped to his knees, not even feeling the bite of concrete through his jeans.

Her skin was ashen, mouth hung open, eyes glassy and unfocused. Steve choked on her name as he worked on finding a pulse. The seconds passed like minutes, the minutes like hours, and he was just about to fall back on his ass when he felt it, an extremely weak and thready pulse just below her jaw. He nearly burst out sobbing.

He’s not sure how he did it; stayed cool enough to carry her and his shield to the jet, then fly back to the compound. He didn’t even break when he was swarmed by medical personnel asking a thousand questions. Or when Bucky ran up, eyes wide with panic. Not even when Wanda sat next to him and said in her soft-voiced accent, ‘Everything will be ok, Steve.’

It was when he was alone in the hall, sitting in a chair, elbows on his knees and head bowed. The blood on his hands had snuck into every crack and crevice, under his nails, staining the dark blonde hairs. His clothes were stiff, rust-colored, and smelled like old copper. That was when the tears fell.

* * *

They tried to tell him to get some sleep and eat, that there was nothing he could do but wait. Well then he’d stay there and fucking wait. The days bled together and Steve lost track of how long she was unconscious or how many times she flatlined. Steve had seen many people die over time, but watching her die again and again and again was the worst thing he’d ever seen. It even topped when Bucky fell off the train 80-some years ago. But Y/N was a fighter, the strongest person he knew, and she came back every time. So why was it taking her so damn long to wake up? 

* * *

Your lids felt were heavy and the rest of you felt like there was this giant weight atop you. There was something stuck in your throat and no matter what you did, it wouldn’t budge. Panic took hold and you pushed your head back and began gagging. Fuck, it hurt like hell. Pain exploded in your gut and in your chest.

‘Y/N, calm down, ok? I need you to calm down.’

Calm down? How the fuck were you supposed to calm down? Eyes finally open, you tried grabbing at the obstruction in your mouth and pull it out, but strong hands held them against your sides.

Bright blue eyes that you had dreamed about were in front of you. ‘I got you. I’m here.’

Heart hammering in your chest, you stopped fighting and did as the doctor asked. Having a breathing tube removed was probably the most painful thing you had ever felt. It felt like you had swallowed a thousand sharp razor blades and then drank some lemon juice.

After drinking a gallon of water and getting a status update, it was just you and Steve in your room. You were sitting up with a notepad and pen on your lap. Steve was standing at the edge of the bed, looking anywhere but directly at you.

You scribbled **_what’s the matter_** on the paper and then snapped to get his attention.

With a sigh, he looked up, but only at the paper. Shaking his head, he pushed away from the bed and walked out of the room. You wanted to call out, hell, you even tried to, but that just resulted with you crying in pain. You drank more water and pushed the button that would make the pain disappear.

* * *

He couldn’t bring himself to tell her what was really the matter; that he was petrified that she almost died, that living without her was scarier than anything he had ever faced before. He wanted to. Instead, he walked out of her room and straight to his. He landed on his bed with a groan and covered his eyes. He was tired and he suddenly hated himself so much for walking out when all he wanted to do was tell Y/N how much he loved her.

It was a loud banging on his door that woke him up. Steve stood, rubbing at his eyes that ached, and pulled open the door, mumbling something about it being late.

‘Tell me something, Steve. Why is Y/N asking me what’s wrong with you.’ Bucky held out his cell phone as technological proof; a series of text messages from Y/N.

Steve eyed the messages before arching a brow at his best friend. ‘What’d you tell her?’

‘That you’re a fucking idiot.’

‘Jerk,’ Steve scoffed.

‘And you’re a fucking punk.’

Rolling his eyes, Steve tried to shut the door, but Bucky’s metal hand slapped into it, cracking the wood slightly. ‘Get your ass down there and tell her how you feel.’

‘Tell me, Buck, how do I feel?’

Fighting the urge to grab Steve by the scruff of his neck and haul him to Y/N’s hospital room, Bucky scoffed. ‘You love her, man. It’s not like we all can’t see it.’

Steve dropped to his bed. ‘But what if-’

‘You almost lost her, man, there is no what if anymore. Tell her. Now.’

* * *

You were kicking Tony’s ass in Words With Friends when someone cleared their throat. Steve gave a shy smile as he came around your bed. Clenching your jaw, you turned your attention back to the game and worked extra hard at ignoring Steve. Not that he made it easy. He said your name, called you doll, rested his hand on your knee.

‘I’m sorry for leaving, Y/N. I shouldn’t have.’ That got your attention.

Phone turned off and placed on the table, you grabbed the notepad and shoved it in his face. **_What’s the matter?_** Steve’s eyes fell and he shook his head. You were afraid he was going to walk out again, so you hit him in the head with the notepad.

When he looked up, you were writing a threat on the yellow paper. **_I swear, if you don’t answer me, I’m gonna fucking kick-_**

His hand was on yours, silencing the scratching pentip. “Y/N, I watched you die.You flatlined five times before stabilizing and I was there for every single one of them. I watched through that window as they breathed air into your lungs, as they compressed your heart, and as they shocked your heart into rhythm.’

Tears burned your eyes and you opened your mouth on instinct, but Steve kept talking. ‘I can’t lose you again. I just… I can’t.’ He was crying now, ice blue eyes that had a smidge of green in them shone as they bore into yours.

You grabbed his damp face and ran your thumbs through the tears. When he covered your hands with his and leaned into your touch, your already thundering heart skipped a beat. Or three. It was now or never. Voice or no voice. Tell him how you really felt. _DO IT!_

‘I love you, Steve,’ you croaked.

Steve’s eyes were wide and he was smiling that half-smile that made him look like a little boy. ‘I love you, too. Always have, doll.’ He pushed off the chair and, with your nails in his beard and his hands on both sides of your hips, kissed you.


End file.
